


The Moment:  Garridebs

by BenAddictViolaBatch



Series: The Moment [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ficlet, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Johnlock Roulette, Love Confessions, M/M, Screenplay/Script Format, Story: The Adventure of the Three Garridebs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 18:43:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8544862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenAddictViolaBatch/pseuds/BenAddictViolaBatch
Summary: This is a companion piece to a ficlet I published a few months back. What if The Moment was The Garridebs Moment?





	

Mary's smile is cold. She moves her arm slightly, aiming the gun past Sherlock. She pulls the trigger without hesitation.

John is hit in the chest. He falls to the floor.

Sherlock screams in anguish: **_JOHN!_**

He snatches the gun out of Mary's hand and brings it down on the top of her head, hard. She drops, unconscious.

Sherlock is across the room and at John's side in an instant. He drops the gun and grabs John's hand, looking down in desperation at John's face. To his immense relief, John is conscious.

Sherlock: _**John!**  _ **Please, John, tell me you're all right! You have to be all right, John! I can't live without you.**

Tears well up in his eyes.

Sherlock: **Oh, God, please, John, I need you! You're the only man I've ever loved. _Please_ , John!**

John is clutching at Sherlock's arm with his other hand.

John: **Sherlock, it's okay! I'm okay! Look.**

He pulls his coat and shirt open, revealing a Kevlar vest.

A sob of relief bursts from Sherlock's chest. He fists both hands in John's shirt and drops his head down between them, hiding his face against John's collarbone.

John tentatively puts his hands on Sherlock's shoulders, a look of wonder on his face.

John: **It's okay, Sherlock. We're okay.**

He moves to sit up, hissing in pain. Sherlock moves quickly to help him.

Sherlock: **Slowly, John! You could have a nasty contusion.**

John grimaces as he sits up, still on the floor. He looks pale. Sherlock swipes hastily at the tears on his face.

John, voice tight with pain: **Yeah.**

Mycroft walks in, flanked by two agents.

Mary is waking up.

Mycroft turns to his agents and gestures toward Mary. They lift her off the floor and hold her upright between them.

Mary lifts her head and looks at John and Sherlock.

Mary: **Oh, bloody hell.**

Mycroft, stepping forward: **Did you really think I would stand by and let you kill John Watson?**

Mary, scoffing: **You put a Kevlar vest on him? _Really_ , Mycroft.**

Sherlock leaps to his feet and strides across the room, stopping mere centimeters from her.

Sherlock, leaning forward and snarling: **That vest saved two lives today. _If you'd killed John, you never would have left this room alive._**

She laughs bitterly. Sherlock seethes.

John, growling: **Get her out of here, Mycroft.**

Mycroft nods at the agents. They exit, taking her with them.

Mycroft turns to Sherlock, gesturing at John with his head: **You'll take care of him?**

Sherlock, wiping the last of his tears off his face: **Of course**.

Mycroft nods and moves to exit.

Sherlock: **Mycroft.**

Mycroft pauses and looks back at Sherlock.

A beat.

Sherlock: **Thank you.**

Mycroft nods again and exits.

Sherlock rushes back to John, kneeling next to him.

Sherlock: **Do you think you can walk?**

John: **Yes, Sherlock. I'll be fine.**

He looks intently into Sherlock's eyes.

John: **Did you mean it?**

Sherlock, confused: **What?**

John, looking down at his own hands: **When you said... when you said you loved me. Did you mean it?**

He looks back up at Sherlock, taking a shuddering breath.

Sherlock's mouth opens, but he can't speak for a moment. He lowers his head, lifting his hands to his temples.

Sherlock: **I... I'm sorry, John, I just... I couldn't keep it in. Forget you heard it. _Please_.**

He squeezes his eyes shut.

John: **What if I don't want to forget?**

Sherlock looks up, eyes flying open, startled. His hands fall away from his temples.

John, his voice becoming a choked whisper: **If you meant it, Sherlock, I want to remember it forever.**

John captures Sherlock's hands in his. Sherlock looks down at their joined hands, speechless. He blinks rapidly.

John: **Sherlock.**

Sherlock looks back up, into John's eyes.

John: **Did you mean it?**

Sherlock struggles to get the word out. It's barely a whisper: **_Yes_.**

John smiles incandescently.

Sherlock continues hesitantly, his voice strained: **But... but you don't... you're not...**

John: **_Sherlock_.**

He squeezes Sherlock's hands.

John, his voice still tight and breathy: **I love you, too. I've loved you since the day we met.**

Sherlock, overwhelmed: **_John_.**

Sherlock lets out a strangled sound.

Sherlock: **I'm such a fool.**

John puts one hand up to Sherlock's face. He is still holding one of Sherlock's hands.

John: **Not as big a fool as I am, Sherlock. _My_ _God_ , the time we've wasted.**

He leans very close to Sherlock, wincing in pain as he moves.

Sherlock tilts his head down. Their lips are almost touching. John's hand slides into Sherlock's hair. They breathe the same air for a moment, neither of them quite ready to believe this is real. John smiles warmly. He pulls Sherlock in and kisses him gently.

Sherlock inhales sharply when their lips meet. He raises his free hand, unsure what exactly he means to do with it. He settles on resting it lightly on John's upper arm. Two of their hands are still clasped between them.

John pulls back.

John, gently: **This all right?**

Sherlock nods vehemently. John laughs breathlessly and kisses him again. The kiss begins as chastely as the first, but soon becomes more heated.

John breaks away again. He rests his forehead on Sherlock's and closes his eyes.

After a moment, John pulls away and sits up straighter, grimacing in pain. Sherlock is looking to him for direction.

John, smiling indulgently: **Help me up?**

Sherlock, scrambling to his feet: **Yes, of course, John!**

Sherlock helps John stand up. John is unsteady, clearly hurting.

Sherlock: **You need to go to hospital.**

John, nodding reluctantly: **I feel like I've been hit in the chest with a cricket bat.**

Sherlock: **Cricket bat? Only a troglodyte would hit someone with a bat. Truly refined people use a tyre lever.**

John bursts out laughing, then clutches at his chest, bending over in pain: **Ahh, don't make me laugh!**

Sherlock wraps his arms around him gently.

Sherlock: **I'm sorry, John. Come on.**

He leads John toward the door.

Sherlock: **John?**

John: **Hmm?**

Sherlock: **Do you think... Do you want to... When you feel better, of course...**

John stops walking. Sherlock stops as well.

John: **Sherlock.**

Sherlock, flustered: **Y-yeah?**

John: **Whatever you're trying to ask me, the answer is yes.**

Sherlock, a huge smile breaking over his face: **Really?**

John nods, smiling.

John: **As long as there are no cadavers involved.**

Sherlock ducks his head, letting out a short, breathy laugh.

Sherlock, his face flushing pink: **Would you, um... Do you think we could go on a... a date?**

John, warmly: **Anything you want, Sweetheart.**

Sherlock blushes more deeply. He is speechless. John takes hold of his arm and they exit together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
